


The Last Sentence

by orphan_account



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Animation-inspired, Frisk/Chara - Freeform, Gen, Genocide, Judgment Hall, Sans Battle, Spare Sans, This is literally the saddest part of Undertale for me, Timelines, undertale - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 18:57:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7769293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing that she felt before her mind slipped away from her and everything was washed over by a backdrop of blackness was three words followed by a devastated cry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Sentence

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Last Sentence (video)](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/221629) by AmazingArtistYellow. 



> This fanfic was inspired by an animation on YouTube by the incredible AmazingArtistYellow and should technically be considered entirely owned by him/her. Link to it is here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E0rAcWQuloA

Frisk let out a blood-curdling scream as she dove at Sans, swiping furiously at him as he dodged her blows with chilling calculation and ease, his face almost bored as he spoke to her in a nonchalant, breezy voice as he sidestepped and ducked. "All I know is," he sighed, jumping over a swipe to his feet while jumping to the left as Frisk highered her knife to a slash at his side in the same motion, "seeing what comes next...I can't afford to not care anymore."  
Frisk just kept screaming in frustration as Sans grabbed her wrist and sent a volley of bones towards her head, just managing to squirm free and duck, escaping with only a bad cut to the forehead that sent blood dripping into her eyes.  
"Now, that being said..." Sans continued, raising his hands and backing away, suddenly docile. His voice trailed off, and his eyes lowered to the blade uncertainly. "You, uh, really like swinging that thing around, huh?"  
Frisk stood there, panting and blood boiling with rage, as she tried to hold herself back from lunging at the skeleton right then and there. It was strange, how she was for some reason unable to attack unless provoked by a previous attack. And Sans was clearly tiring; beads of sweat were gathering on his bruised forehead where Frisk's fist had connected with him where the blade had not.  
Sans hesitated, and then exhaled, "Listen. I know you didn't answer me before, but..." The dancing cyan-and-lemon flame in his left eye slowly died down, its fire dwindling into nothing but an exhausted, fatigued and crestfallen white pupil. "Somewhere in there. I can feel it."  
Frisk knew what he was talking about, and she wanted to shriek with a thousand hurtful words, telling him that he was wrong, that no, she had become a monster, she was a monster. There would be nothing left if you took that away. Under all the hate, all the blood, all the dust scattered by her hand, under it all...she was empty.  
But she said nothing.  
"There's a glimmer of a good person inside you," Sans told her, his eyes softening. Frisk could almost swear he was going to cry. But she wasn't, she cannot. She will not. It is impossible, as she had been drained dry what seemed like decades ago. "The memory of someone who once wanted to do the right thing."  
Frisk hated Sans's words because in truth, she could feel something stirring within her. In her chest. In her mind. Something tickled at the edges of her subconsciousness, and it felt familiar. Warm. Welcoming. Affectionate. Something that clearly did not belong in her. And she wanted it out.  
But Sans wasn't done. Tilting his head slightly, he murmured, "Someone who, in another time, might have even been..."  
Another time.  
Don't say it, Frisk pleaded in her mind, don't say it, you won't know what it'll do to me --  
"Friends?"  
Frisk prayed that Sans had not seen the chill that coursed through her body, or the fact that her once white-knuckled grip on the knife hilt was beginning to loosen as the pounding of her heart grew strong enough that her teeth began to rattle. That -- that word did not describe her. She had abandoned that possibility with the first monster she killed, when she let her knife sink up to the handle in innocent skin.  
But had it described her in a different point of time, in a different point of space?  
"C'mon, buddy." Sans closed his eyes, and then opened them again, and Frisk felt something crumble and disappear inside of her when he stared deep into her own eyes. His Soul seemed to exit his body and reach into her own like tendrils, twisting and probing their ways into the empty husk of a person. She could not move, not speak, not cry. Nothing but listen. "Do you remember me?"  
The rage seemed to melt from behind her eyes as she straightened up, her mouth parting just slightly as those four innocent words broke a dam that had once held back a whole different section of her mind that had apparently been blocked off from her access. She knew this because memories surged into her mind. Images of outstretched arms. The smell of a freshly baked pie. Joyous sounds of laughter and a handsome, robotic voice belting out a beautiful song. And Frisk soon found that with these new but all too familiar memories flooding her brain and overwhelming her suddenly weak consciousness, old knowledge began to place names on these pictures.  
In one of them, she was sitting on the shoulders of a tall, painfully familiar skeleton, vermillion scarf flowing out in a proud crimson wave behind him. Papyrus. And Sans, happy and playful in this memory, a stark contrast to this hunched-over, heartbroken, depressed shadow in front of her, stood beside his brother with affection shimmering in his eyes.  
Her hands began to shake.  
In another one, Papyrus was there, urging her on as she stuffed spoonfuls of spaghetti into her mouth, a rugged but beautiful fish-woman with a waterfall of scarlet hair pinned up on her head standing in front of them, a crooked grin pulling at her toothy mouth. Undyne. Un-melted and whole and as fierce as ever. And she was there again in another memory that flashed through Frisk's mind, hooting with pride as the girl ferociously stirred a spoon through a boiling pot of noodles and tomato sauce.  
How strange it was to see these monsters alive and well.  
Could this have truly happened? If, per se, Frisk had instead been brave enough to be a light in this dark, underground world, could she have been such a valued treasure in these monsters' eyes rather than a bloodthirsty murderer?  
More pounded against her temple, and Frisk staggered and let out a cry as she fought to keep her sanity. A horned, golden dinosaur talking to her using nerdy lingo, pointing at a device closely resembling a phone, obviously proud of it by the looks of her sparkling eyes from behind her spectacles. Warm, thick arms squeezing her figure, enveloping Frisk in violet velvet as hot tears of regret dripped onto the girl's hair. And Frisk was hugging her back. There was even a tall, tired goat with a crown sitting between his gnarled horns, standing before her in a garden of golden flowers.  
The last one was easily the hardest to bear. Because in this one, all of them, everyone one of her memories manifested into a unique creation of nature that Frisk had failed to respect and love, stood around her, beaming down at her with gratitude and promises shining on their lips. And she found she could name them all.  
Alphys, pink blush vibrant against her dandelion skin, leaning against Undyne's side as the taller woman pumped her fist in the air, a breeze letting her long hair wave through the air like a red kite.  
Asgore, with his broad chest puffing up as he breathed in fresh oxygen for the first time in his life, smelling a faint scent in the air that reminded him closely of the yellow flowers that had surrounded his dead son.  
Papyrus, a grin stretching from ear socket to ear socket, a gloved hand clapped on a beaming Sans's shoulder, ruffling the thick fur on his hood as he shouted exclamations of ecastasy.  
Mettaton, combing a hand through his raven hair as he pursed his lips, concentrating on composing a song to illustrate a picture of his happiness to have finally reached the Surface.  
And Toriel, Frisk's loving, tender, wonderful goat mother, her soft, heavy paw clutching Frisk's much smaller palm with a grip so tight that it could mean only one thing: she never wanted Frisk to leave her again.  
Was this what it was like, to be desired?  
Frisk had long gone numb, far before this battle, but she had somehow only grown even colder, because all she could feel was the thumping of her heart against her chest, like her Soul wanted to leave her body in a frenzy. That meant she did not feel the knife fall from her hands, she did not hear the clatter of stained metal against tile, she did not feel the salty tears drip down her cheeks and hit her boots and floor. She did not hear her tortured gasps that passed her clenched teeth, or feel the lump slowly threatening to burst, or realize she was about to sob. She did, however, understand one thing.  
She finally knew what it was like to be loved.  
Her voice rose to a whimper, and she lifted her head just enough to see Sans staring sympathetically back at her. That ashamed her so much that she instantly covered her face with her hands, shaking hard as she began to cry. "I'm sorry," she cried, her chest shuddering. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry..."  
At first she didn't know why she was apologizing, but it dawned on her that she had always known that she was responsible for the growing number of deaths that had only gotten bigger with each monster. For Toriel, for Undyne, for this poor skeleton's brother. How had Frisk killed them?  
She vaguely heard a heavy, empathetic sigh coming from Sans's direction, and through her choked sobs she almost missed the deep voiced words. "I know how hard it must be, to make that choice," he said, tone mournful. "To go back on everything you've worked up to." He paused, listening to her as she repeated the same phrase over and over, that she was sorry. "I want you to know...I won't let it go to waste."  
Frisk could barely see through the blurred vision and her overgrown bangs, but she peeked through her fingers just enough to see Sans glance away before gazing back at her and breathe, "C'mere, pal," and walk towards her.  
A wide hand gripped her left shoulder, and Frisk caught her breath and looked up at him. Overcome with sorrow and washed with regret and hung out to dry in the blistering heat of longing for a new day, Frisk let out a strangled cry and dove into Sans, shoving her head into his soft cotton undershirt and throwing her arms around his thick body. She twisted her fingers into the sky-blue parka, sobbing into his shirt. Pressed against her broken form, Sans stiffened for a few seconds, clearly taken aback by the sudden embrace. But then, slowly, the hug was returned, and soon Frisk felt a weight against her head as Sans lowered his skull onto her shoulder to reach her level.  
Sans hugged her in silence, his grip slowly tightening until Frisk was trapped by his arms. But she didn't care. She squeezed her eyes shut, still whimpering and sniffing, whispering more apologies under her breath. She had to inhale deeply, and she began to smell a trace of Papyrus's bone cologne on the skeleton's shoulder, which only threw her into a new sea of anguish.  
Against her closed eyelids, the darkness slowly began to get lighter, taking on a slightly navy hue. Frisk froze, her cries breaking off abruptly, as she felt Sans shift in the hug. And it was then when she felt his bones move just slightly against her body, joints moving and clicking together, tendons lurching...  
And then she felt it.  
A sudden tortured gag was ejected from her mouth as abrupt pain burst in her chest and ripped through her body, snapping her ribs in half and then exiting through her back in a rush of white-hot, searing agony. Instantly Frisk sagged against Sans, her body screaming, so much in pain that everything turned white and red as her eyes flew open. She tried to shriek, but nothing came out. Or maybe something did, but she could not hear. All she knew was that she was dying very quickly, because she could feel everything that the huge bone through her body was touching -- the ruptured organs, the broken bones, the torn skin quick being tainted with gushing blood. The taste of metallic, thick blood was prominent in her mouth, and she fought the urge to vomit whatever was left in her bleeding stomach.   
Her arms fell to her sides, and a tiny breath left her, and Frisk rapidly realized that would be her last. Brain already shutting down, punctured heart teetering into the abyss, Frisk's eyes shut on their own accord, her body failing. But still, on the edge of consciousness and delirious with pain, Frisk could still feel Sans's arms holding her tightly, shaking hard, just barely composed. It may just have been her hallucinating imagination, but she could've sworn she felt tears drip onto her hair.  
It was funny, how the pain was so easily received, because all of a sudden, it felt like sweet relief -- the most amazing thing she had ever felt. It was sadistic, she knew, but she could not deny the feeling of freedom. It felt like a thousand pounds were lifted off of her back, a burden being released. Because Frisk was dying, dead, gone, and maybe...just maybe, she could make up for this bloodied life she was leaving.  
And she smiled, because now she had a second chance.  
The last thing that she felt before her mind slipped away from her and everything was washed over by a backdrop of blackness and numbness was three words followed by a devastated cry.  
"Get dunked on."

 

 

And then she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really sorry because I didn't have time to properly beta this, so I'll go through it and edit errors gradually. I hope you enjoyed, because I certainly got the feels when I watched the video and wrote this...#KeepUndertaleAlive


End file.
